


The Great Outdoors

by VigilantShadow



Series: Amnesty Prompt Fills [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast), The Adventure Zone: Amnesty (Podcast)
Genre: Barclay's still Bigfoot, Camping AU, M/M, No hanky panky is happening because Stern's uh, Not sober, Rated T for alcohol (just to be safe), Stern's Still FBI, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 17:50:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VigilantShadow/pseuds/VigilantShadow
Summary: When what was supposed to be a romantic camping trip ends with Stern being dumped, he resigns himself to an evening of getting drunk and lamenting his entire existence. Then he meets Barclay.





	The Great Outdoors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CertifiedPissWizard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertifiedPissWizard/gifts).



> This one's for Reed (actually-a-taco) on Tumblr! [You can also read it on my blog.](http://sternspatreon.tumblr.com/post/183639439284/actually-a-taco-here-i-am-eight-thousand-three)

It took Stern about forty-five minutes to realize he’d been dumped.

After that, it took Stern  _another_  forty-five minutes of staring at the no signal marker on his phone to realize that, seeing as his boyfriend had taken the car with him, he was stuck at the Kepler Pass Campground for the night.

Once those two realizations were out of the way, it was worryingly easy to decide the solution to those two problems was to finish off the drink he’d been nursing over during dinner and then open another one. And another one. And a few more after that.

Given that he had been just on the line of the ideal amount of tipsy before that, this left him slightly drunker than he’d intended to get. Actually, quite a bit drunker than he’d intended. Which was fine. It was fine, and he wouldn’t regret it while trying to check out tomorrow at all.

That was about the time he’d gone for a walk. Which was a bad idea, because it turned out he’d left behind his sense of direction somewhere between getting tipsy and getting drunk.

Stern held up the empty remains of his ill-advised drink, preparing to fling it at the wall of the anonymous tree he’d almost wandered into. Miraculously, his brain worked well enough to go if you do that you’ll feel bad about it the entire time you’re hungover tomorrow. So instead he set it down on a nearby picnic table, crumpled down to sit on top of it, and took a moment to feel sorry for himself.

“Hey, uh, you okay?”

Stern’s FBI combat responses kicked in, and he grabbed for the bottle. Unfortunately he was drunk, so he missed the bottle. Stern’s FBI combat responses didn’t kick in fast enough to stop him from wobbling to the side, overbalancing, and nearly breaking his nose as he crashed to the ground.

“Alright, that’s a no, then.”

“I’m fine,” Stern said, and ended up with a mouth full of pine needles for his troubles. He rolled onto his back and blinked up at the person he’d nearly physically assaulted.

He was glad he hadn’t, for a lot of reasons. Firstly, he was pretty sure he remembered a thing or two from FBI training about not throwing beer bottles at people. Second, the guy the voice belonged to was – if his estimation was accurate, which he wasn’t too sure about – at least half a foot taller than him and could probably break him in half.

The third reason was the completely involuntary, and very regrettable, fact that his first thought upon catching sight of the man’s face was he’s hot.

“You sure? It’s, uh. Ten. And you look like you’re at least midnight drunk.”

“I’m fine,” Stern repeated, spitting the pine needles out of his mouth. Yep. Done with camping. Well, at least it was dark. If he was lucky, this guy wouldn’t recognize him during the day. Which, given that he’d just been broken up with in the middle of nowhere with no car and no cell signal, was very unlikely.

“Do you need help?”

“I’m-“ Stern stopped, because if he said I’m fine again, that would pretty much destroy any chance of this guy believing he was fine. “No. I don’t. I’m just having a…” He stopped again, because he was nowhere near drunk enough to get actually sick, but definitely drunk enough for his insides to inform him he’d made a mistake.

“Bad night?”

“Mmm,” Stern groaned. Nice job, Stern. Making a great first impression, Stern. Really not letting this whole thing get to you, Stern.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Stern forced himself to sit up, which was a bad idea. Really, just about everything was a bad idea at this point. Now that he was vertical, he could get a better look at the hot stranger. Who was, in fact, still hot. And also just as tall as he’d estimated.

“I…no offense.” Stern knew he was speaking far too slowly to pass as properly sober, but it was speak too slowly or make no sense, and Stern hated it when people couldn’t understand him. “But I don’t really…do having emotional talks with strangers.”

“Well then,” hot stranger said, taking a step closer to Stern. “I’m Barclay.”

“What?”

“I’m introducing myself. You know, so that we’re not strangers?”

Stern blinked at him.

“I…people try and use that trick in real life? I thought that was…I thought that was a thing from TV.”

Barclay chuckled, running a hand through his hair. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Stern was pretty sure he had a crooked, slightly embarrassed smile on his face. Barclay shifted and, yes, there was the glint of teeth in the moonlight. Barclay had a nice smile, the stupid, drunk part of Stern’s brain decided. The not-drunk part of his brain informed him that he’d just been broken up with, and he should stop thinking about how handsome someone that was most definitely still a stranger looked.

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

Stern snorted. If he were sober, he’d come up with a witty response to that. Well, no, he probably wouldn’t. Stern was only good at being eloquent when he had a little time to practice, and being randomly accosted in the woods had caught him off guard.

“Well, then. I’m Stern,” he said, instead. That sounded decent. Barclay nodded slowly, and Stern suddenly wondered whether Barclay was a first or last name. It was rude to give someone your surname when they gave you their first name, right? He thought that might be rude. Which meant that Stern was usually rude, given that he could count on his hands the number of times he’d given out his first name in the past decade.

Sober Stern hadn’t considered that detail, which meant drunk Stern had to. Unfortunately, he was drunk Stern, which meant he didn’t have the brainpower to reevaluate his entire life and hold conversation.

“So, now do you want to talk about it?” Barclay asked. He sounded just a little annoyed, but mostly…was that worried? Stern supposed that sitting on the ground in the woods and not responding to external stimuli for a couple of minutes was probably pretty worrying, so he’d let Barclay have that.

“What?” Stern asked, because his life crisis had kind of driven the beginning of their conversation from his mind.

“Not really.” Yes, actually. He really wanted to talk about it, but he most definitely was not going to on account of it made him sound like an idiot. Which, he already looked like an idiot, so maybe he ought to care less about sounding like one. But he technically did have a reputation to maintain. Sure, Barclay probably wasn’t going to go tell the FBI about Stern whining to him at ten fucking pm on a Friday night, but it was the principal of the thing.

“Alright then. Um. Is there someone I should go…bring here?”

Stern took a deep breath, because the alternative was probably screaming and he most definitely didn’t do that in front of still kind of strangers. Especially hot ones.

No, drunk Stern. Stop thinking about how he’s hot.

“There’s no one,” he said, and he only sounded kind of pathetic. Or, he thought he did. Barclay looked kind of concerned, though, so maybe not. Stern sighed, and admitted to himself that the urge to complain about his shitty day overpowered the urge to not vent in public. “Okay, so, maybe I do need to talk.”

Barclay nodded, then carefully sat down beside Stern. Closer than Stern felt almost complete strangers should sit, but far enough away that idiot Stern that keeps forgetting he just got dumped felt disappointed.

“So, uh, bad breakup?” Barclay guessed. Stern laughed, a short, harsh laugh, and he wished he still had a drink to take a dramatic swig of.

“That obvious?” He replied, settling for a self-deprecating smile.

“Well, I was pretty sure no one died. So it was that or you got fired. Glad I guessed right, though.” Barclay grinned. Yes, drunk idiot Stern’s initial conclusion that Barclay had a nice smile was correct, and not-idiot Stern was very annoyed. “Would’ve been kinda awkward if I’d been wrong, yeah?”

“Getting broken up with is just getting fired from being in love. Basically.” It had sounded more eloquent inside his head, but Stern would settle for coherent. More than settle, because Barclay chuckled again, and idiot Stern decided it was even nicer than his smile. Not-idiot Stern gave up.

“And getting fired is just getting dumped by your boss?” Barclay shot back.

“Exactly.”

They shared a look, and Stern felt himself smile. Well. This was ruining his plans to find some corner of the woods and sulk for the entire night, but he found he didn’t mind too much.

“So, how long ago did it happen?” Barclay asked.

“You said it’s ten, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s been, hm. It was eight thirty when I started getting worried and went to go look for him…so an hour and a half, maybe?”

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I figured you were out camping to get over-“ Barclay paused abruptly. “Wait, look for him?”

Stern nodded, which didn’t do great things for his internal sense of balance.

“He said he had to go to the bathroom. Thirty minutes later, I get worried and go to check on him. Guess where he wasn’t?”

“Are you sure he hasn’t been, uh, kidnapped or eaten by a bear or-“

“His car’s gone,” Stern said, scowling. He felt a little bad about cutting Barclay off, or maybe just about the fact that it’d made the other man flinch. “Which, you know, is the car we both drove up in.”

There was a moment of silence. Stern spent most of it trying to decide whether to be angry at his brand new ex, or annoyed with himself, or worried that he’d killed this conversation for good.

“Sorry I. Wow. That’s.”

“Yeah. You know, I’ve heard of going to the bathroom to ditch a bad date, but I’d thought he would be too polite to do that where I have no cell reception.”

“Do you…” Barclay winced. “No, sorry, that’s a personal question. Nevermind.”

“Do I know why he did it?” Stern leaned back on his hands to look at the sky, in the hopes the stars would make him feel better. They didn’t, and looking up just made him fall onto his back, so instead he turned back to Barclay. “No idea! We were just talking, having a normal conversation that was going perfectly well. Then,” Stern reached into his jacket pocket, panicking when his hand didn’t immediately close on his badge. As it turned out, his pockets were just a lot deeper than he’d thought. He waved the badge in front of him as he continued, “he asked me about this.”

Barclay just looked confused, and Stern realized abruptly that the way he’d phrased that last sentence made no sense.

“Sorry. It’s…I’m in the FBI, and I just got transferred. He asked…he asked what the department was, and when I said he went…you know.”

“He fucked off?”

“Yeah.” Stern squinted at the badge. “Don’t know why, though. If I told him I was specializing in homicide then hey, maybe that just means I was dating a serial killer but…”

“But what?”

“They put me in Unexplained Phenomena. You know, the paranormal division?”

Stern thought Barclay might’ve stiffened for a moment. Thought that the laugh he let out a second later might’ve been a little nervous. But hey, he wasn’t disappearing into thin air, so it was better than the last person he’d mentioned his job to.

“I know,” Stern said, deciding that it must’ve just been how unrealistic it all sounded. “I mean, I always figured that the United States government had a paranormal division, I just never thought that I’d…join it.”

He slipped his badge back into his pocket, deciding not to mention that it was basically the job he’d dreamed of getting as a kid.

“So, what, do you go find psychics or something?”

“No clue. My new superiors were…well, they were pretty vague, and I don’t start till Monday.” Stern smiled, trying not to look too bitter. “This was supposed to be us celebrating the new assignment.”

Barclay hummed sympathetically, some strange look on his face that Stern would make sure to overanalyze in the morning. If he remembered it.

“Well, if he’s not going to celebrate with you, would. Uh. Would some strangers work?”

Stern stared at him for a second, trying to process that offer. He failed.

“What?”

“I’m here with some friends. They’re, uh, kind of rowdy. But they like celebrating stuff, and they don’t run off in the middle of the night.” Barclay paused. “Well, a couple of ‘em do, but that’s just to go make out in the woods, and they usually get back to their tents after.”

“Are you sure? I’ve never, you know, gone on a group camping trip,” aside from FBI wilderness training, which very much didn’t count, “but uh. I’m sure bringing a sad drunk guy to the party breaks some kind of rule.”

Barclay scoffed, already standing. Even though they hadn’t been sitting that close together, Stern still felt the chilly air left by his absence.

Ugh, he could feel the cold. That meant he might be sober soon.

Stern was coming to grips with that fact as Barclay held out his hand. He reached out and took it on instinct, and ended up so distracted by how warm it was that he hardly noticed as Barclay easily pulled him to his feet. He stumbled a little bit, reaching out with his free hand to stabilize himself. Somehow, this meant his hand ended up on Barclay’s chest.

Stern tried to remind himself that he just got dumped, and he was drunk, and he should probably chill for at least a day because rebounding never worked out. But, hey. It wasn’t rebounding if he was just making himself a little dizzy with the realization that the handsome guy that had invited Stern to his campground was definitely strong enough to bench press a tree, right? That was just being reasonable, and besides, Barclay had given absolutely no indication that he found Stern attractive. So it was fine. Absolutely fine.

“I know I’ve been asking if you’re alright a lot. But are you, uh, alright?”

Stern really had to figure out how to be drunk without standing and staring at nothing – or at people’s faces – for longer than he could pass off as casual.

“Hey, it could be worse. You could be an angry drunk. Or, uh, a crying drunk. One of my best friends is a crying drunk.”

“I said that out loud,” Stern said, and wanted to die.

“Sure did,” Barclay replied, smiling. Stern was pretty sure he should be annoyed about someone laughing at him, but on Barclay it somehow didn’t seem cruel. “Now, uh, do you wanna get going?”

Stern nodded, following Barclay until they reached a campsite just two lots away from his. He resisted the urge to back away and sprint into the woods. You don’t know if they saw you feeling sorry for yourself, he told himself. Barclay didn’t react, which meant Stern had probably managed to keep the thought inside his head.

“Barclay! We thought you got lost!”

The woman who had said that was sitting backwards on a folding camp chair, which should’ve looked awkward. Somehow, she pulled it off, just like how she pulled off the bright red pompadour. She was grinning, and Stern got the feeling she was the kind of person that grinned easily.

Then she caught sight of him, and that grin turned…curious? Maybe sly. Definitely sly.

“Who’s that?” She asked, and the man sitting next to her gave her a look.

“Aubrey, stop trying to give people meaningful looks. It’s fuckin’ unnerving.”

“Yeah, well, I’m always right, so,” she trailed off. Barclay sighed.

“When you don’t scare ‘em off.”

“Aw, c’mon Duck! That was one whole time. And technically one of them was Ned’s ex, who came back eventually and therefore doesn’t count.”

“She has a point about that,” a man, probably Ned, added helpfully.

“I’m not cooking breakfast for you tomorrow, Aubrey.” Barclay stepped into the circle of camping chairs and Stern followed. There were…a lot of people. Stern was rapidly coming to the conclusion that this was a mistake, but by that point Barclay was gesturing toward an empty seat and he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

As soon as he was close enough for the firelight to illuminate his face, Aubrey narrowed her eyes at him. She stared at him. He stared back. She continued staring at him. Stern got even more annoyed with himself for staring at people while drunk, because having turned against him was very unsettling.

“Oh, hey!” She finally said, leaning back in her chair. She flailed a little as she almost lost her balance, and the tall, blonde woman on her other side put a hand on her back to stabilize her. “You’re the guy that was solo drinking earlier!”

“I should go,” Stern said, “I just realized I have something I need to do.” Like hiding in his tent for the rest of his life.

“No you don’t,” Barclay said, then turned to Aubrey. “Please, Aubrey, I’m begging you. Stop being like this for ten minutes.”

“Okay, fine.” Aubrey made it sound like that was some sort of great burden. But, when she continued with, “so, who is this?” There was less innuendo and more genuine curiosity.

“I’m Stern,” he said.

“But what’s your name.”

It was Stern’s turn to squint at her.

“Oh. Wait. My name’s a word,” he said, once he managed to fully process what she’d just said. “I’m drunk.”

“Yeah, we got that.” Duck shifted, adjusting the Smoky the Bear ball cap he was wearing.

“I don’t normally get drunk at eight pm. Or alone.” Or ever, really.

“Sure,” Aubrey said, and almost sounded like she believed him. Another woman, off to the side of the fire, scoffed in a way that indicated she very obviously didn’t.

“My boyfriend dumped me and now I’m stranded in the woods.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. But he’d already complained to Barclay, which meant there was a decent chance they’d find out anyway. Besides, it turned out complaining felt pretty damn good, especially with how offended Aubrey immediately looked.

“Okay, fair,” Duck said, as the blonde woman put a hand on Aubrey’s shoulder and forced her to stay sitting.

“I’ll fight him for you,” Aubrey declared.

“Babe, he drove away,” the blonde woman said. It didn’t sound like she was arguing with the concept, just the logistics.

“Did he take his stuff?” Aubrey asked. Stern shook his head. “I’ll fight him when he comes back for his stuff, then. I can wait for that. I can wait a long time.”

“You’re not gonna fight him when he gets back, Aubrey. You’re just fuckin’ tipsy.” Duck rolled his eyes, then looked at Stern. “She gets enthusiastic when she’s tipsy.”

“I’m always enthusiastic!”

“Alright, she gets more enthusiastic.”

“I will assist you in destroying him, if you – unlike some weaklings – have the courage to wield me,” a muffled voice said from inside a nearby tent.

“Who said that?” Stern asked.

“Uh, absolutely no one. Definitely not-“

“It’s Duck’s stupid action figure,” Aubrey interrupted, “Got it for his sister’s kid, then forgot to take out the batteries when we got here.” Aubrey tilted her head meaningfully toward the tent. Duck sighed, unzipped the tent, and disappeared inside.

“That’s…” Stern paused, trying to think of a way to express his thoughts that wasn’t rude.

“A shitty toy?” Duck guessed from inside the tent. “Yeah, I’m realizing that.”

There were more muffled sounds, and then complete silence as Duck…was Duck piling every single duffel in the tent into a corner of the tent?

That was a problem for sober Stern, drunk Stern decided.

“Hey, uh, sorry about the whole innuendo thing,” Aubrey said, out of nowhere. Stern wondered if that was a distraction. It worked.

“It’s no problem?” He hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question. Barclay dropped into a seat beside him, sighing heavily.

“Aubrey, please. I’m begging you. Shut up.”

“No, I need to apologize properly.”

“This ain’t apologizing,” Duck chimed in, not looking away from whatever he was doing. “This is furthering your fuckin’ agenda.”

“It’s just that you’re Barclay’s type, so I assumed-“

Barclay interrupted her by groaning, and by the time Stern’s head whipped around to look at him – which was, despite the fact that he was slightly less drunk than before, still a bad idea – his head was in his hand.

“Babe, please,” the blonde woman begged. Aubrey smiled unrepentantly, and high fived Ned. Tried to high five Ned. They both missed.

“I hate to admit it, but he ain’t wrong,” the woman from the other side of the fire said. Barclay let out a noise that might’ve been a scream.

“I’m your what?”

“That’s not why I did…Aubrey, why are you implying…I’m so sorry about her, that wasn’t why I did that.” Barclay was definitely blushing, and Stern wasn’t sure if that had him excited or panicking.

You can’t try and rebound literally an hour and a half after getting dumped. Stern reminded the smart part of his brain that he’d already told it to be quiet.

“I wasn’t trying to come onto you, I promise. I was just worried about you.”

“Um,” Stern said, then took a second to try and think of something valid to follow that up with. “It’s…fine? I didn’t think you were.”

It had been kind of disappointing, actually.

“Anyway, Duck. Do you have your situation handled?” The blonde woman asked, cutting into the awkward silence.

“Yeah,” Duck responded, stepping back out of the tent and zipping it back up with more force than Stern thought was warranted. “Anyway, what the hell were we talking about before?”

“How you ate shit skateboarding last week!” Aubrey said, enthusiastically. Duck looked like he regretted his entire life.

“I did not.”

“You did to.”

“I am inclined to agree with Aubrey, my friend.”

As the argument settled into comfortable background noise, Stern leaned over to Barclay.

“You’re my type too,” he whispered as quietly as he could manage. The others didn’t stop their conversation, which Stern hoped was an indication he hadn’t mucked it up too bad.

“What?” Barclay asked, eyes wide.

“You’re my type, too,” Stern repeated, then realized Barclay most definitely wasn’t asking because he hadn’t heard.

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you’re drunk?”

Stern hummed thoughtfully.

“I am stupid when I’m drunk,” he mused, softly. Barclay deflated, just a little, which very much wasn’t Stern’s intention. “Hey, do you think you’ll still be awake in an hour?”

Barclay glanced over at the rest of the group, just in time for Aubrey to laugh loudly enough to break noise curfew and nearly topple into the blonde woman at her side.

“Even if I didn’t want to be, yeah. Why?”

“That’s how long it’ll take for me to not be stupid,” Stern said, in what he hoped was a properly serious voice. “I’ll tell you again then.”

Barclay opened his mouth. Barclay closed his mouth. Barclay opened his mouth. Barclay gave up on whatever he’d initially intended to say, and smiled.

 


End file.
